


Oh Songbird

by orphan_account



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Biting, Blood, Blood Kink, Crying During Sex, Daggers, Demon Deals, Dialogue Heavy, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Ghirahim's Convenient Demon Powers, I wrote this with the mindset that Link wants it, Licking, Light Bondage, Light Masochism, M/M, Marking, No Lube, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Painplay, Sadism, Saying no during sex, Spit As Lube, Teasing, Under-negotiated Kink, Unsafe Sex, here we go again, however, this is a rough one y'all, tread very carefully, uh oh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 17:16:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17923028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Link isn't stupid. Reckless maybe, and impulsive at times, but not stupid.That being said, he feels rather stupid.(They're still the outstanding matter of your punishment, Link)Aka; Ghirahim steals the Master Sword, and Link gives in.





	Oh Songbird

Link isn't stupid. Reckless maybe, and impulsive at times, but not stupid. That being said, with no weapon and a demon right in front of him, a wicked being that he's spent more time with than most creatures on the surface looking at him with a new, nasty glint in his eye, he feels rather stupid.

He knew from the first fight that Ghirahim was holding back on him. He wasn't even a little bit prepared for how much stronger the demon really was. Too caught up in the dance, the slick hiss of his words _(the outstanding matter of your punishment, Link)_ , promises and threats _(perhaps corporal punishment is a touch harsh)_ , the seething anger _(I'll make your ears bleed)_ , to realize he'd been losing the fight. Too caught up in the curve of his grin _(if you'll strike a deal)_ , in the dextrous twirl of his wrists _(don't you play coy with me)_ , in the filthy images that flash behind his eyelids _(won't go easy on you this time)_ , to realize. That is, until his sword is trapped between the demon's gloved fingers and ripped out of his grasp.

Link scrambles forward in attempt to wrestle it back, but it's too late. A loud  _snap_ echoes through the chamber and the demon is gone, with the sword. The lights dim.

Silence.

"Fi? Fi!" Link calls, panic creeping in. All he gets is silence, deafening. He still has his pouches, but looking around the room reveals the doors are still heavily barred, and there are no holes, hallways, switches, _anything._  Link dashes to the closest door and yanks, but the strong bars don't give. He's in the middle of pulling out his beetle when he hears the tell-tale metallic jingle, like evil wind chimes that kick every muscle in his body into defensive mode, and that's the only warning he gets before a mouth settles on the back of his neck.

"Poor little songbird," Ghirahim teases. Link whips around to face him and is met with the scattered of diamons, then nothing. Terror climbs up his throat, heady and thick, mixed with that wriggle of helplessness he always gets around Ghirahim. He swallows it down the best he can.

"Give me my sword back," Link says to the empty room, thanking Hylia his voice stays steady. He just has to toy with him a bit longer, until he can think of a way out, until he can find Fi.

"Why would I?" Ghirahim asks, disembodied. "The fight is over. I've already won."

"You cheated-" Link starts, but it's weak, to no avail.

"Hm, what's that's phrase I'm looking for..." Ghirahim interrupts from a rafter above Link's head. Link jumps and twists around, backing up so he isn't directly beneath him _(Oh, isn't that an idea?)._  "'To the victor go the spoils'?"

Link doesn't respond, frustration _(and something else, something he refuses to acknowledge)_ chewing up the back of his mind. Ghirahim smiles, wide and white, before dropping down from the rafters with a graceful bounce. Link stands his ground as he starts to step closer.

"What's the matter, Skychild?" Ghirahim faux-pouts. He pauses maybe a foot away and leans down, nearly eye level. "You look tired. Are you tired?"

"Tired of your-" Link starts, but Ghirahim grins wide and happy, and he trails off.

"Aw, that one was really going somewhere," Ghirahim says, an almost believable attempt at sounding disappointed. He reaches up and hooks a finger under his chin; Link smacks it away and raises his chin himself. He won't think about the little sparkle of heat in the base of his spine, or how close they are, or how Ghirahim isn't even looking him in the eyes so much as staring at his lips. "C'mon, don't be like that. I do love the sound of your voice, songbird."

Link feels his face go hot - a little impressive considering where his blood seems to be trying to go. He swallows again, and Ghirahim watches the whole movement before speaking.

"Oh, dear," Ghirahim croons, finally dragging his gaze up to meet his eyes. Link isn't sure it's possible for someone to sound more cocky, more victorious, more- "Do you like that, songbird?"

It isn't _fair_. Ghirahim drops his voice to a low whisper and it's like the walls all slid close to box around them. Link takes a step back without meaning, but Ghirahim follows so smoothly it only makes it worse. He opens his mouth to respond but nothing comes out, only a huff of air that likely would've been a whine if Link has less self control.

"My little songbird," Ghirahim murmurs. Link takes another step back, then another, until he bumps against the wall and there's nowhere left to go. "Didn't I promise to make you scream?"

There's a flash, a twinkle of diamond and chimes, and a blade against Link's neck.

"No-" Link gasps, snapping back to reality enough to shove at Ghirahim's chest, but with a _snap_  there's two tight circlets of diamonds around his wrists. Ghirahim grabs them and wrestles them to the wall above his head. When Link tries to twist out from beneath him, they stay locked against the wall like shackles. "No!"

Ghirahim wraps a hand around his wrists and there's a single, hopeful second where Link thinks he'll release him before his feet leave the floor and instead he's dangling there, suspended, held up by the binds and now nearly eye level with the demon. Link writhes, kicks, but it's useless.

"That's it," Ghirahim purrs. Link fights to pull his wrists apart but they hold tight. The knife at his throat returns, presses, slides, and Link can't swallow the pained noise when it sinks into his skin. "Now you've got the idea."

"No," Link repeats, insistent. Ghirahim's free hand slides flat over his stomach, slowing, up and down in a motion much too soothing for its own good. The dagger slides away, quickly replaced by Ghirahim's mouth laving the blood away and staining his lipstick pink.

"Such a sweet thing..." Ghirahim murmurs. The knife turns to point over the hollow of his throat, lethally sharp. "Beg."

"Don't-" Link tries, but cuts himself off with a moan as the tip of the dagger slides horrifyingly easy into his skin. "Oh, _no._ "

"You've taken worse," Ghirahim mutters. It's true, he's taken worse, deeper cuts closer to vital organs, but that's not all. Ghirahim can kill him, right now, if he wants. Can make him choke on his own blood, can ruin everything he's worked so hard for, and it's _doing it_  for him. It's fucking hot, sickeningly so. The dagger turns and draws a line down to the cooler of his shirt, pausing just long enough for him to gasp out a _"no, don't-"_ before leaving his skin and slicing through the entire front of the fabric instead. Ghriahim kisses over the wound, dancing his tongue over the cuts as the knife blade rasps sharp over his side. When he's done, the dagger is lined up parallel with his ribs, points straight towards his heart. Link isn't stupid. He know the next move.

"Don't, I can't take that-" Link tries. The tip of the dagger sinks in, just breaking the skin. "Ah, no, no, _no-_ "

"Beg," Ghirahim orders. Link shakes his head, and the dagger sinks in another inch, reaching his ribs.

"No!" Link chokes out. Something sick twists in his stomach, pain and nausea and shame all curdling into the reason he can stop his dick from growing stiff under the treatment.

"Careful, songbird," Ghirahim warns. Pulls the dagger out an inch before stabbing it back inside the same wound. Link cries out through his teeth. "Wait too much longer and I might hit something important."

"Don't, c'mon, somewhere else-" Link starts, but the dagger sinks in another inch. It's between his ribs now, the pain getting scarily deep. Link shakes his head in one last attempt before Ghirahim pushes it farther, closer- "No, no, oh Hylia _please!_ "

The dagger disappears.

"Again," Ghirahim orders.

"Please," Link breathes, heat climbing up his chest. Ghirahim smiles, pleased, and presses a hand flat over the freshly bleeding wound. His palm goes cold, and the wound begins to stitch back together not unlike how the magic of a red potion might work. "Thank you, thank you."

"Oh, good boy," Ghirahim praises. His hands slide, knifeless, down Link's sides. Link can't look at him, shame curling in his stomach as the demon presses his whole body forward into his space. That shame more than doubles, triples, when Ghirahim's hips press flush with his and he can feel his own half-hard dick against Ghirahim's leg. "Already? Damn, Skychild, I don't even have to work for it."

Hands on his thighs, kneading, pulling them apart for Ghirahim to slip between.

"This is all you needed, huh?" Ghirahim prompts. He grinds his hips forward, and Link moans as the bulge of his leggings rubs firm over his own. "To be taken down? Taken apart?"

Link's hips stutter, torn between arching forward into that wonderful pressure or pulling away. Ghirahim steals away his chance to decide, pinning him flat to the wall with his hips and trapping him there, so each movement leads to pleasure.

"Do you want me to take you?" Ghirahim asks. It's teasing, mean, but there's nothing Link can do besides nod. His hands move to kneading at his ass instead, holding him flush right where Ghirahim can use him. "Do you need it?"

"Please," Link says.

"Say it," Ghirahim orders.

"I need you, please," Link begs.

"Cute. What do you need me to do, songbird?" Ghirahim pushes.

"I need you to- to take me, please," Link stammers, mouth tripping over his words.

"Take you? Take you where?" He says. Link groans, desperate.

"To take- to- gods, _fuck me_ , please!" Link says.

"Better," Ghirahim smirks. A moment later, he's shoving a hand into Link's pants, and Link gasps as smooth fingers wrap around his dick. "I'll make a deal with you, songbird."

"No, no deals, come on," Link tries. Ghirahim's hand tightens, pumping his dick slow and so, so good, Link can't help but struggle to get more.

"I'll fuck you, right here, right now, just like you need," Ghirahim starts. His hand moves quicker, twisting over the sensitive head, and Link moans into it. "But if you come, you'll never find your pretty little sword again."

"No! Please, Ghirahim, I can't-" Link gasps. Ghirahim laughs, reaching up to sink two fingers into Link's mouth.

"Get them wet, songbird, it's all you get," Ghirahim says. Link obeys, laving his tongue over the digits, as slick as he can. The taste isn't unlike a regular human's fingers, only smoother, more metallic, and he takes it willingly. "Better hope that stamina of yours doesn't wear too thin. I'm not known for finishing early."

Link whines, high and pleading. Ghirahim ignore him in favor of snapping once, pants and small clothes whipping away to who knows where, and urging his legs up around his waist. He tugs his own leggings down only just enough to pull his cock out, and that sight alone is enough to send Link somewhere dangerous. Long, thick but not unbearable, and bobbing before Ghirahim wraps a hand around it, pumping himself slow and steady. Ghirahim pulls his fingers away and Link closes his eyes, afraid if he watches, it'll be over before it begins.

"Songbird..." Ghirahim says, lazy. A hand slips towards his ass, kneading, pulling his cheeks apart so his newly wet fingers can brush over his entrance. "I never did get that scream, did I?"

Link swallows, dry, and shakes his head no.

"A compromise, then," Ghirahim shifts so it's one finger, pressing firmer and firmer circles over his hole. "I'll get you to scream. I'll have you scream for more."

With a twist, the finger slides inside, all the way to the third knuckle. Link sucks in a breath. He doesn't give him time to adjust, only slides it halfway out, and then Link is lost to it as Ghirahim stretches him open. Teeth scrape at his pulse as a second finger presses against his entrance, much sooner than expected. When the digit sinks in, he bites down on a cry at the same time that Ghirahim bites down on his neck.

He's stuck like that for a while, held open and scissored while bruise after bruise is sucked into the column of his throat. After a bit, a third finger is thrust in dry. It burns, forces Link to hiss out noise of pain, but then all three digits curl and climb until they brush up against that wonderful spot inside him and Link can't complain anymore. Ghirahim teases light circles over the spot, skirting the edges, before rubbing hard and perfect over and over and over and Link can't take it.

"Too much, please!" Link wails. Pleasure shoots up his spine, all at once, so much it's impossible. His gut grows tighter and tighter, hips jerking back and forth against his will. "I can't!"

"Fuck, you're needy," Ghirahim mutters, smirking, pulling his fingers away. Link feels cold, empty, but there's nothing he can do besides wait as Ghirahim spits into his hand once, twice, and rubs it over the head of his cock. "Let's hear it, songbird."

Blunt heat catching the edge of his rim, back and forth, spreading what little slick it has over his hole.

"Please," Link whimpers.

"Please, what?" Ghirahim asks, like the complete asshole he is.

"Please, Ghirahim- Lord Ghirahim," Link adds, because he's already dug himself this far, why not go a bit deeper, "Please fuck me."

Ghirahim pulls his face forward, tilts it, and plants their mouths together with one sure movement. He pushes in, head dragging rough past his rim, and when Link opens his mouth to gasp, licks into him with pure possessiveness. He keeps going, deep, deeper than his fingers could reach, deeper than Link thought he'd be able to feel. It aches, burns around his hole and up into his guts, tears pricking in his eyes. Ghirahim tugs on his bottom lip with his canines and slides out halfway, enough to make Link choke on a cry for the thousandth time this hour, and snaps his hips back in.

" _Ah!_ " Link shouts. It's heady, rough, nothing like the slick and soft it's supposed to be, and it makes all the difference. Ghirahim repeats the motion, and Link takes it. "Oh, _gods!_ "

"They can't help you here, my bird," Ghirahim nearly growls. The next thrust it sharper, closer to that fantastic spot from before, and his cry jumps up a few pitches. "You're all mine now, aren't you?"

"Please!" Another thrust. Ghirahim's grip slides back to his thighs, pulling up enough to ache and starting a slow, hard rhythm with his hips. "Please, Ghirahim!"

"My little songbird. How many others have had you like this?" Ghirahim asks. The angle shifts, not quite perfect, but almost there, and Link moans.

"Just- just one- oh!" Link jerks when and hand lands hard on his ass.

"Who?" Ghirahim growls.

"Please-" The next hit is on the other side, a loud _smack_ that leaves him flushing pink in embarrassment. "Another knight, Pipit, please Ghriahim-"

The next hit hurts, stinging, and Link moans.

"Was he good?" Ghirahim asks. Link scrambles, lost. "C'mon, bird. Tell me."

"Yes," Link says, partly because Pipit wasn't terrible, if way too soft, and partly because the more possessive Ghirahim becomes, the closer he gets to fucking him ragged. "He was so good, he took care of me-"

"Liar," Ghirahim hisses. This time, the pain makes Link gasps, writhing, and then it doesn't stop, one after the other over the same spot. When it's over, Ghirahim bends his knee up and finally the angle is right so the hard mass of his cock brushes Link's prostate, and Link is flying. "Say his name then, if he was so good."

"Oh- _oh_ \- Ghirahim- I'm-" Link cries. Ghirahim goes faster, until the sounds of skin and sex fill the room.

"Say his name, Link," Ghirahim snarls.

"Oh gods, Pipit!" Link says. The next hit digs in with nails, and tears are back in Link's eyes.

"Say it again."

"Please, Pipit, please!" Link says. _Smack_.

"Again."

"I'm close, I'm so close, Pipit," Link says. _Smack. Smack. Smack._

"Again."

"I can't, please, please let me come-" Link says.

"I said _again_ , songbird." Ghirahim says. A hand wraps around his dick instead now, not pumping, but a tight ring around the base, cutting him off.

"Please!" Link begs.

"What's his name?"

"Ghirahim!" Link cries. Ghirahim lets go of his dick, instead hiking Link's hips up and down to meet his. "He wasn't! Not good, not as good, _fuck_ , as you, _ah!_ "

"That's what I thought," Ghirahim says. Suddenly, the circlets around Link's wrists vanish away, and he scrambles to hold on to Ghirahim's shoulders, arms, anything. "This ass is mine now, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes, yours, yours since the- the first time- _please_ ," Link sobs, desperate. He goes to reach for his own dick, hesitating just above his own stomach and whipping it away to sink into his own hair instead.

"Shit. _Fuck._ I'm gonna come, songbird, would you like that?" Ghirahim asks. Link nods, quick, and a feral grin flashes over his face. His rhythm breaks, erratic, turning into something deeper and quicker. A breath, and he's rubbing across Link's prostate with merciless intensity. Link is fighting to hold back.

"Please, please come, fuck, _fuck-_ " Link shouts. "I'm so close, I can't do it, Ghirahim please, I'm gonna come, I- oh gods- _no-_ "

Ghirahim shoves his hips forward one last time, pressing against that spot as his dick twitches hard. Link has tears streaming down his face as Ghirahim claims him, pumping hot and slick as deep inside as he possibly can, so close to his own edge he reaches down to finish himself off before Ghirahim grabs his wrists and slams them to the wall at his side.

"Too late," Ghirahim says, low and raspy turning into a groan, rolling his hips deep inside him. Link is crying, truly crying now, for reasons he can't quite place.

Slowly, the coil of tension in his gut recedes. It's painful, it's unbelievably unsatisfying, and he takes it with reluctant relief. Ghirahim holds him there for a minute longer, until he starts to soften inside him, and then slides out with a little hiss.

Link slips to the floor, tears drying on his face, and closes his eyes. There's a chime, then a minute later, another, and something nudges his foot for attention.

Ghirahim, fully dressed with hair combed into place and only revealed by the pink smudge of his lipstick, hands him the Master Sword.

"See you again, songbird. Destiny insists," Ghirahim says, after he takes the weapon. Link barely gets enough time to register his words before Ghirahim snaps once, gone with a flash of diamond.


End file.
